False Starts Worm
by Diresquirrel
Summary: A collection of fanfics based on Worm that didn't really go too far. Some might be finished sometime, but not all will. Tell me what you think! Also, I don't own anything you recognize.
1. Taylor Hebert, Princess

**Taylor Hebert, Princess**

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By DireSquirrel

* * *

_So I got to thinking, if Worm is a grimdark version of superhero comics, what would be the Wildbow version of the Disney Princess?_

_This got me thinking about the breakdown of Disney Princesses. They seem to be split up into certain categories: Princesses who gain royalty by marrying into a family (Beauty and the Beast); Princesses born to royalty who have shit happen to them (Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, the Little Mermaid); and princesses who are secretly princesses and don't know it, a sort of twisted King Arthur version (Princess Diaries)._

_So, it only made sense to combine at least two of them and came up with this idea._

_Note that I don't own anything hinted in this fic._

* * *

Taylor came home worn and weary. She had survived Lung, and "survived" was the appropriate word. Even with the abuse put upon her by Emma, Sophia and Madison, she hadn't felt this kind of exhaustion. She had won, with a little help from her new acquaintances and she was at least someone pleased that Armsmaster was willing to take the credit. She didn't need retaliation from the rest of the ABB. Hell, she hadn't been planning on taking on villains for a while and just going after thugs. Lung had stabbed that plan repeatedly with a metaphorical steak knife.

But now she was home. Sure, she smelled of smoke and burned concrete (which she never really knew could burn before), but she was alive and home. This was especially important because home was also where her bed was. Unfortunately Fate did not have the same in mind.

"Taylor? Is that you?" her dad called out from the living room. Why was he up so late? This didn't make any sense, he needed to go to work tomorrow.

"Yeah," she called out. "Just got back from my nightly run."

"Could you come in here? There's someone here to see you," he called back.

"Um... could I go get cleaned up a bit? I'm really sweaty," she said. And it was true. Fighting a huge, getting huger, rage monster who could set things on fire pretty much at will tends to make you sweat a lot. The mind-numbing fear adds a bit as well.

Taylor could hear him talking lowly to someone in the next room.

"Um, make it quick, Taylor, she can't stay too long," Dad said.

Taylor, the would-be superhero, rushed upstairs, stripped down and jumped into the shower for a superfast cleaning of grime and soot. She threw on some half way decent clothes and made it back down. The "she" who had come to see her was perhaps in her late 60s. Her hair was graying, but Taylor could see the woman had a similar tone to Taylor's own mother, at least once upon a time. They were nearly the same height, with Taylor being slightly taller, but it still seemed like the woman was staring down her nose at the girl.

"Taylor, this is Victoria. She's-"

"A fifth cousin thrice removed on your mother's side," the woman said. Her accent was British, but with a little twist to it, that made it seem like it was not her first language. "But that is rather a mouthful, so when it is just family, you may call me Aunt Victoria."

"Hello," Taylor replied a bit shyly. "I'm Taylor Hebert."

"I must say, my dear, you look so much like a member of the family I almost would have recognized you even on the street," she said with the slightest of smiles.

"Thanks, I guess," Taylor replied.

"Stand up straight," she said in a tone that suggested "Aunt Victoria" was accustomed to being obeyed. Taylor certainly did, straightening her posture instantly. "People do not take you seriously if you do not take yourself seriously."

The inspection began again, making Taylor feel a little like cattle being checked before auction. Victoria looked at her nose, her eyes, her glasses and teeth.

"Very well," the woman said. "It was quite pleasant to meet you, Taylor. We might be seeing more of each other in the future."

"Your Aunt is only here on business," Danny said, seeming a bit nervous. "She has to go back home soon, but wanted to meet you." He looked at me, briefly flicked his eyes to Victoria and then looked back at me. "Taylor, you look pretty tired, why don't you get to bed?"

"Yes, my dear," Victoria said. "Never underestimate the worth of a full night's sleep."

"Thanks," Taylor said. "It was good meeting you."

"And you," she replied with a nod of her head that made it seem like she was dismissing Taylor. The teen didn't really think it over, since her mind was already full of Lung and how she could do better next time. She was out the second her head hit the pillow.

"Poor girl," Danny said.

"'Poor girl?'" Victoria said with a raised brow. "She is vital and she will be tested."

"Why are you doing this to us? We weren't rich, but things weren't so bad," Danny grumbled. "After Annette and I got married you didn't want anything to do with us. Why now?"

"You ask a difficult question," Victoria said. "Your daughter is my heir."

"What are you talking about? Annette was something like the four thousanth in line for the throne! Taylor couldn't possibly-" he cut himself off at the dark look Victoria shot his way. "You're serious. Fuck."

"My nephew, Victor, named for me," she said. "Felt that he was too far down the line of succession. He used his little tinker toys and murdered everyone in the family until it was just he and I."

"Shit," Danny muttered under his breath. "But he didn't know about Taylor."

"No, since she had never been invited to Court, nor was she written down in the Rolls of Nobility," Victoria stated flatly. "After Victor's execution, I have corrected that error. Still, it remains to be seen if she is worthy of the Throne of Latveria." She looked at Danny with a bemused look. "You realize she is parahuman, correct?"

"I... I suspected," Danny said. "Doesn't that break things for you?"

"Nonsense," she said, seemingly to glow with a special radiance that made her seem more regal, though it did not give off any real light. "It does, after all, run in the family."

Danny closed his eyes and counted to ten. Losing his temper with a Queen could be a very bad idea. It might not be a large country, but it was a rather powerful one all the same.

"You're not going to tell her, are you?" Danny said as he realized what was going on. "You're going to watch her and see how she reacts."

"My precognitives tell me that if things go well, she will most likely be a worthy queen," Her Majesty, Queen Victoria von Doom of Latveria stated before turning and waking to the door. "My people will be watching always. It would be in your best interest not to mention this to the girl. She may not take it well."

"What is going to happen to her?" Danny asked.

"Depending on whether she takes the thinker up on her offer, she will become one of the most feared and respected Villains in America, or one of the most respected Heroes in all the world. She will not suffer in mediocrity" Victoria said with a grin full of pride. "And she will do it all with a rather weak seeming power. During this I expect she will suffer injuries, experience great loss and even find a bit of romance in a dark, twisted sort of way. I delight in the stories my precognitives have told me. You should be very proud of her."

"If your capes have already told you what is going to happen, why do you need to test her?" Danny asked.

"Because it is those experiences that make her worthy," Victoria stated flatly.

* * *

Months passed. Danny sat by as Skitter became a force to be recognized, her Undersiders ruling along with her over Brockton Bay. He and Taylor barely talked anymore. He didn't know if he should be proud of her or not. Should any parent be proud of their Super Villain child? Especially one with such a meteoric rise? She had gone from a nobody to one of the heads of the Brockton Bay underworld in a matter of months. With the help of her allies, she taken out Lung and the ABB, helped scare off Leviathan, embarrassed the Protectorate and Wards, murdered Coil (who was later revealed to be a PRT employee), and been responsible for taking out a few of the Slaughterhouse 9.

Truth be told, he was terrified of what she had gone through. What caring parent wouldn't be? He really, firmly, thought that she should have had to go through this. Still, they were going to have dinner. He was planning on telling her that he knew all along. He was going to tell her that he was proud of her, even if he was a little disturbed about how it went.

He sat down in front of the TV while waiting for the water to boil and saw his daughter outed by Dragon and the new hero Defiant on national television. His heart pounded as he watched the events unfold. Part way through he heard a pounding on the back door and wondered how many of his neighbors had put two and two together. He wanted to ignore it, but went to the window by the front door. The press was already there, but were kept away by a cordon of men in black suits. Stepping away, since he had suspicious as to who brought the men. He opened the backdoor and saw a familiar face that was positively beaming.

"Your Majesty," Danny said. "You look pleased."

"Pleased?" Queen Victoria of Latveria said with a grin that almost split her face. Camera flashes went off as the press took it all in. "Pleased doesn't even come close. Proud barely touches my state."

"Your Majesty," Danny said. "Why don't you come in?"

* * *

"What the fuck do you mean the Latverian Ambassador wants to talk to the prisoner?" Tagg snarled. "No, she can't fucking talk to the prisoner! Tell her to get the fuck out of here!"

"Mister Tagg, I presume," a tall woman with black hair said. She looked slightly bemused by it all, as if she knew something Tagg didn't. "And I do not want to speak with a prisoner, I _will_ be speaking with Taylor Hebert."

"How dare you come in here!" the man snarled. The woman leaned over, her palms flat against the surface of the desk as she glared right into his eyes.

"As Ambassador of Latveria to the United States I have a legal right to have access to any Latverian citizen accused of a crime," she stated flatly. She pulled out her smartphone. "Now, you can either respond to my request, or I can make your day, very, very bad."

Tagg stared at the woman, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Wait, _Latverian_ citizen? Skitter isn't Latverian!" Tagg said.

"Very well," she said speed dialing. "Release the information. Tagg won't cooperate."

"What information?" he demanded.

"Everything we have on corruption in the PRT, specifically about how your predecessors are directly responsible for the accused going towards villainy, and that Taylor Hebert is, in fact, Her Highness Princess Taylor, heir to the throne of Latveria," Countess Lucia von Bardas stated flatly. "And her aunt is not amused."

If anyone had been paying attention to a certain someone in a cell, they would have heard a loud "WHAT?" echo throughout the cellblock.

* * *

"In a surprising update on the Brockton Bay story, reports have shown that she was actually forced into villany by members of the East-Northeast Protectorate chapter," the news anchor said, reading off a new bit of information. "Taylor Hebert, better known to the world as the Supervillain Skitter, was actually a victim of abuse by one Sophia Hess, who is now in juvenile detention. Sources have now revealed that Sophia Hess was actually the Ward Shadow Stalker. One man who worked at Winslow High, who refused to give his name, had this to say:"

"We all knew what was going on," a man said into the microphone, his face hidden by shadows. "Well, not that Taylor had triggered, but that Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes and Madison Clements had it out for her. I tried to report it, but the Principal said she would take care of it since it was a PRT situation. As far as I know nothing happened."

"He went on to explain that while he did not know Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker at the time, he did know she was criminally abusive," the news anchor reported. "And that Taylor Hebert was trapped in a locker filled with, oh god." She swallowed as she looked at the paper in horror. "Trapped in a locker filled with rotten, used feminine products such as tampons, pads and other biological waste."

"People, this was criminal," the News Anchor said, looking right at the camera. "More into the story of Taylor Hebert after this break."

"Oh, it seems my dear ambassador was forced to release our side of the situation," Queen Victoria said with a bemused smile as she watched the drama play out on live TV. "Though I fully intended it to be released in time. Did you know that Coil was actually an administrator at the PRT?"

"What?" Danny asked. "That's counter to everything the PRT stands for!"

"Yes," she said. "Yes it is."

"I tried," he said, sounding like he was a hundred years old and two steps away from his deathbed. "I tried to get her to go to the wards without telling her I knew what was going on, but I don't think it would have been better if Shadow Stalker was on the team."

"My thinkers feel that it was very unlikely she would have remained a hero for long," Queen Victoria stated. "And if you look at it, she's done much more good for the people in her area as a villain than she ever could have as a hero."

"The wrong thing for the right reason," he muttered.

"She learned how to rule, which is the most important," the Queen replied. "Now, my Countess will teach my heir how to comport herself for the public when so very little is private."

"Did you have to release everything?"

"No," the Queen replied. "I _chose_ to."

"She's going to hate you," Danny said. "But you knew that already."

* * *

AN: Not too sure how much more of this I have in me, but who knows? I might get inspired.


	2. Only the Blind Can See

Only the Blind Can See

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By DireSquirrel

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* * *

I was blind.

There had been something more in the locker than just bugs and the horrific collection Sophia, Emma and Madison put together. The hours I was in there had messed with my eyes and the last few days everything had gone from murky to just a mess of grays where any sort of light was painful. My glasses weren't enough anymore and the doctors thought it wasn't going to get better unless I got some intervention from Panacea or some other healer cape.

That wasn't the worst part. With the loss of my eyes it was like everything else had been cranked up. While I was in the locker, I learned I could smell everything in there with me. I could hear the bugs crawling over me. I could feel the texture of anything touching me with any part of my body. I could taste the air and detect things more than I ever could. A cup of herbal tea let me identify each bit of the blend. Everything was enchanced to obscene levels.

For a time I think I was a little insane. It was all too much at once and I didn't react well to anything after the Janitor let me out. I spent almost two weeks in the hospital and only recalled part of it. The first part was too much.

Dad was on the warpath. I didn't know what he was going to do, but at least he hadn't punched the principal.

It was a week after I was released from the hospital that I realized that my vision was useless beyond a little bit of detecting light and dark areas. I couldn't read. Colors were just a messy blend of grays that made no sense, like it was when I used to not wear my glasses, but all the time now and much, much worse. But it was when dad dropped a bowl on the floor that I realized _I_ wasn't completely useless.

"Dad?" I said.

"Sorry, Taylor," he said. "I just dropped a bowl. Dinner will be ready in a minute."

"No," I said. "I think I can tell where it was."

I tapped my toe on the floor twice. I walked over and without attempting to look, I reached down with both hands and picked up the bowl.

"Taylor? You can see?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"I heard it," I said. I reached out a hand and searched across the counter to where we kept the long metal spoons, ladles and such. When I felt the ceramic jar, I reached with both hands and grabbed a ladle.

"What are you doing?" Dad asked.

"Wait," I said. I hit the metal stove with the metal ladle and listened to the echo of the sound. I didn't think anyone could have heard it like I could, but I got a mental image of where everything was, the sound bouncing off like ripples in a puddle. I listened. As it continued I started to be able to differentiate between all the other sounds the average person in the city ignores.

Cities are noisy, with something going on all the time. I could feel it interact from the engines of cars going by, to the ticking of the clock, to my father's breath. My attention was spread out beyond myself, not divided, but focusing on all the sounds around me all at once. The smells of fresh cut tomatoes and carrots, with the ripped up leaves of lettuce in the salad bowl on the counter. I could feel every tiny imperfection on the ladle's handle.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Taylor?"

"I think I got powers in the locker," I said.

"Losing your vision isn't a super-power," he said as kind as he could. His heartbeat, which I hadn't realized could hear before then, surged as he raged about what I went through.

I shook my head.

"No," I said. "I can hear, Dad; I can smell; I can taste; I can feel. _Everything_."

* * *

Over the next few weeks we realized it wasn't just my senses that were heightened. It was pretty much everything a human body could normally do, just cranked up. I was faster, not superspeed, but my reactions were quicker than they ever were before. I could run without getting tired. I was stronger, once again, not super strong, just tough enough to pick up the couch by myself if I needed to. My senses more than made up for my loss of vision and allowed me to almost function like a regular person.

I still couldn't read, since while I could feel the heat differences between the ink and page, font was harder to distinguish and I was working on Braille little by little. The settlement between Dad and the school had included an at-home tutor for the blind at their expense while I learned to get by without my sight. She was a little odd, but we got along fairly well as she taught me how to read again. She found some of the textbooks on tape, so I could listen to them. Well, they were MP3s on the computer, but Dad still called them Books-On-Tape, so it stuck with me.

I was getting by little by little. Eventually, as I was going out for a walk with my tutor, I was able to tell where the sidewalk ends and felt something heading towards me. Almost instinctively, I reached up and grabbed the baseball with my bare hand.

"Holy shit!" my tutor said before apologizing for her language. I held the baseball in my hand, feeling the stitching with every bit of skin touching it. I didn't look at it. I didn't need to. I passed her the baseball, pretending as if I didn't just catch it and didn't know where to send it.

"Here," I said. She paused, gaped at me, then took it from my hand. I paused and listened, hearing exactly where the kids who threw the ball were running away.

"Did you _see_ that?" one of them said.

"She wasn't even looking!" another one hissed.

"Where are we?" I asked my guide.

"We're on the boardwalk, not far from the docks. Maybe a bit too close to the docks," she said. "Sorry, I'm surprised that they'd do that out in the open."

"They?" I asked.

"The skinheads from Empire 88," she replied. "I'm guiding a white girl. They don't like that."

"Huh?" I said.

"I'm black," she replied.

"Sorry, I wouldn't know," I replied honestly. And it was true, skin color meant nothing to the blind, really.

"How did you catch that?" she asked.

"Oh, I heard it," I said. "It's become a bit of a reflex, since I'm dropping things all the time, always knocking into them."

I could tell by her heartbeat that she didn't completely believe me. I made a point of "tripping" over the next curb. I could hear her relax when I did.

I have to admit that the bit of fear she had irritated me a bit. I mean, I was blind, not useless, and she was supposed to be a tutor for the blind.

"Where are we going anyway?" I asked.

"A friend of mine does guide dog training," she explained. "You need to learn to respond to the dog's signals."

The trip to the dog trainer went well. He was a tall man with a deep voice, but was very calm about the situation. You could tell by his temperament that he enjoyed his time with dogs. We made it back without incident, but I still had that baseball stuck in my head. And the dog, I liked the dog.

* * *

I took to walking and running, sneaking out when Dad was asleep or at work. I didn't have to look blind if I didn't want to and the exercise looked good. The more I went out, the more I was able to keep a mental map of the city and know exactly where I was at all times. I was able to plan routes well, but it wasn't all running. Sometimes I just felt the need to get out, to not be stuck in the house.

One night, I went out and sat on a bench and relaxed in the cool breeze of springtime. It wasn't long before I caught the smell of some people with some dogs. There were four of them, and three dogs. The four were whispering to each other and didn't seem to notice me.

"Hi," I said. "Nice night for a walk, isn't it?"

I heard their heart rates jump as they realized I was there.

"Uh, yeah," one said. Male, sounded young, teens probably. The voice was muffled a bit, like he was wearing something over his face. He hissed out something to the tallest one of the group. "No response at all?"

"Shut up, Regent," the tall one hissed, obviously not intending for me to hear him.

One of the dogs moved over to smell me. "Hi there," I said, holding my hand out for it to sniff. I smiled and looked up at the girl I thought was their owner. "I've been looking to get a dog to help me." I turned to the dogs and smiled. "You're a big one ain'tcha?"

"Angelica, back," she said and the dog dutifully returned to her side. "Help you? How would a dog help you?"

"Probably by reminding her not to wear sunglasses at night," the teen said snarkily.

"She's blind," said the other girl. "I'm guessing light hurts her eyes. Like Helen Keller's teacher, you know?"

"Guilty as charged," I said. "I've been working with companion dogs, but I don't have one yet. Yours sound really well trained."

"Uh, yeah," the girl said awkwardly.

"What's the secret to training them?" I asked. She shrugged, her weight shifting and making enough noise for me to hear she'd repositioned herself, but I pretended not to notice.

"Rachel," the tall one said. "She's blind. You have to speak."

"I know that!" she spat. "I'm not fucking stupid!"

"Right," the other girl said. "As much as we'd like to chat, we'd all best be getting along. I heard someone riled up ABB and Lung's on the rampage. You'd best be getting along."

I'd heard enough wiffle-waffling about my new blindness to know how people's heart rates changed when they lied, and that wasn't technically a lie, but it was sort of one. I had the suspicion that this group was the reason Lung was less than happy.

"Right," I said, standing up and pulling out my cane. The noise helped me "see" better, as well as feel things out. "Nice meeting you!"

"Yeah, you too," the first boy said with a tinge to his voice like he was in on some joke.

I was almost home when I was surrounded. I'd heard them coming, but didn't think I was their target, but I was clearly wrong. By their footsteps, there were five of them and they seemed excited about something.

"We saw you," one said, his voice pitched slightly high. "You were with those assholes! Where the fuck did they go?"

"Look, I can't tell you what I don't know," I replied.

"We saw you with those fucking bitches! Don't fucking lie to me, bitch!" he said as he pulled out a gun.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," I said. "I'm blind."

"I said don't fucking lie to me!" he said as he pulled back the hammer on the revolver and spun the chamber. I was starting to think he'd seen too many movies. I moved to take off my glasses, but he raised the gun at me. "Look at my face, bitch! Is this a face that likes your fucking joke?"

His pulse was racing and the others were getting nervous.

"Look, Ryou, maybe she's telling the truth," one of the others said. "She was tapping that stick on the street."

"I _am_ telling the truth," I said. "I _am_ blind."

"Ryou, I ain't hittin' no blind cripple," another said. I bristled at the term. I was NOT cripple and it infuriated me to no end when people used the term.

"Fine, you pussies run off," Ryou said, waving his gun around. I could smell the rust and gun oil on it. I kept my attention on him.

"Yeah, whatever," one of the others said, moving off. Ryou reached out with his other hand and shoved me.

"Into the alley, bitch," he said.

"I told you," I said. "I'm blind. I can't see the alley."

He grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me towards the alley. I could feel it as soon as we were cloaked in shadows, the slight difference from the light above vanishing. He pulled the gun back up and I reacted. I knew I could get hurt, but if I did nothing, I _would_ get hurt. I brought my cane up and hit him on the wrist hard. The gun went flying from his grasp. He snarled something, but I didn't give him a chance to do anything to me. He was unarmed and wasn't with four others, so I pretty unmercifully beat him into submission with my cane.

"Crap," I said as I realized he was unconscious. I didn't have the heart to just leave him in the alley when anything could happen to him. Sure, he tried to do something nasty to me, but I wasn't a monster. I felt around on his body and found a phone in his pocket. Luckily for me, it was an older style phone with buttons. After a couple of false starts I managed to call 911 by feel.

"Hello, 911, what is the emergency?"

"Hi, I, um, kinda got attacked," I said.

"Do you need an ambulance?" the person on the other end of the line asked.

"No, I don't but my attacker does," I said. "I kind of, um, beat him up with my cane."

"Your cane?"

"My cane."

She sighed. "Where are you now?"

"I'm not really sure about that," I said. "I kind of got turned around when someone said Lung was upset."

"If you are not in any immediate danger, please look at a street sign," she said.

"There's a problem with that," I said.

"What's that?"

"I'm blind," I replied. "Oh, and this isn't my phone, I took it off my attacker after I hit him with my cane. Can you track the phone?"

"Yes, I think so," she said before asking someone if they could do that. "Yes, we can. Please keep it on."

"Sure," I said.

* * *

"So let's hear that again," the cop said.

"Well, I figured that there was a chance I could get hurt if I attacked him, but a 100% chance I'd get hurt if I did nothing, so I started hitting him with my cane," I said for the forth time after the paperwork was filled out. The gathered cops laughed outright.

"This is like one of those YouTube videos you just have to keep watching over and over," one said with a chuckle.

"Ryou, Ryou, Ryou," one of them said, shaking his head. My attacker was apparently known by name at the local police station. "He screwed up royally this time."

"I'd like to see his daddy's expensive lawyer get this thrown out," said another, prompting another round of laughter.

"He's rich?" I asked.

"And scum," the cop replied. "But don't worry. We'll be keeping you safe. Luckily we don't even have to arrest him for attacking you, since we got him on possession of a firearm. It's against his bail conditions and that's a felony."

"But he's still arrested for attacking you," said another. "Don't worry about that."

"Yeah, we'll get him this time," assured the first cop, patting me on the arm. "We'll get a patrol car to take you home in just a minute. What was the address again?"

I gave him my address and contact information.

"Don't worry about the ABB thug," he assured me. "When they find out that he was caught attacking a blind girl, even they won't have any respect for him."

Dad wasn't happy that I got attacked and he wasn't happy that I snuck out at night. We finally found some middle ground that let me have some freedom and him some piece of mind. It became a routine where he'd let me wander within some limits during the day and we'd go for walks at night before heading to bed.

* * *

I started experimenting in what I could do. I was faster than the average human, but not really too far beyond that, maybe like an Olympic track star. I was stronger than the average human, but my strength didn't really go beyond lifting the weight of the couch.

I found that certain sounds echoed better, letting me get a better "vision" of the objects around me. Rain was perfect. The splish-splish-splish of droplets on something almost gave me a perfect image. I still couldn't do things like wash the dishes, but I was better able to navigate the world around me. There were also some sounds that I could hear that other humans couldn't. Mr. Dyson was finally using a regular wistle instead of that irritating dog-whistle thing he was using before. The dog didn't obey anyway, so it wasn't doing any good.

I resolved to get some sort of device to hear the world around me better, because there's no reason I should limit myself to just what my already enhanced senses could do. And even though my ears were better at hearing things, it didn't seem like they were more sensitive to loud noises, much less so, it seemed.

Dad wasn't too happy with me when I asked him to throw things at me one weekend.

"I'm not letting you join the Wards," he told me as he threw a tennis ball at my head, which I caught perfectly. We started with NERF balls and went up from there. Dad used to pitch in high school and he was still getting his arm back. While there wasn't much room in the basement, it was still a decent enough place to practice.

"I don't know that I want to join them," I said, tossing the ball back at him. "I mean, I'm faster, a little stronger, a little tougher, but not really that much more than a normal human who works on it. And I'm blind. I don't want to get stuck behind a desk because of one measly little problem."

"Being blind isn't a 'measly little problem,' Taylor," Dad said as he chucked a foam "dagger" at my direction. I deflected it away using the heel of my hand hitting the grip and not even coming close to the blade. "You're getting better at this, but even with your hearing, there have to be limits."

"It's weird," I said as I dodged and deflected seven tennis balls thrown in quick succession. "Sounds don't confuse me."

"What do you mean?" Dad asked as he bent down to pick up the balls I tossed back at him.

"I walk down the street and I hear everything separate and at the same time," I said. "I'm able to tell each sound from another. There's no more overwhelming cacophony of noise like there was at first."

"That's good, I suppose," he said. "But what are you going to do about the ABB ganger who attacked you?"

"The cops are making sure we're safe," I said. "I'm underage and blind. They couldn't bare it if they let either of us get hurt."

"He got bail, _again_," Dad reminded me, having got the lowdown on Ryou from the cops and the ADA covering his case. It should have been an open and shut case of breaking bond conditions, but the slimy lawyer was causing no little trouble. "While he's going to court, he's still on the streets again."

"I've been learning more about the process," I said. "Did you know the Brockton Bay library has an entire Braille section? I'm not really fluent, but I'm getting better. I think that with good light, I might be able to 'read' other books based on touch."

"How? I can't imagine that the ink changes the texture much," Dad said as he chucked a few more balls at me. I jumped up and grabbed the stringers in the exposed ceiling, allowing them to fly below me and slam into the concrete foundation wall beyond.

"It's the heat difference," I said. "I don't have it mastered yet, but I'm working on it."

"Sounds good," Dad said. "I wish I could help you with this more."

"Dad," I said, dropping back down to the floor. "You're helping more than you can believe."

"Thanks," he said. "Oh, that reminds me, the new voice activated software is here. It just finished downloading last night."

"It'll be nice to be able to use the internet again," I said. "Thanks for the Braille keyboard."

"Not a problem," he said. "Why don't we take a break and get something to eat?"

* * *

The next few months were quiet, very quiet. There were no gang wars or that sort of thing going on in Brockton Bay. The closest thing to trouble was when a bunch of capes, rogues, heroes and villains, went up to Boston to fight off Leviathan. Not as many returned as went. With the death of Kaiser, who went as some sort of show of power, the E88 fractured, splitting their territory into smaller shards of what it had been before.

I continued to practice with Dad. I was getting my homework done and Braille was coming easier than I expected, probably because of my new tactile sensitivity and ability to multi-task my senses. It was odd that I was somehow able to administer my life better than I did before, but perhaps it was the learning from home and that Dad trusted me to stay safe.

One of the most interesting parts of this was the ongoing trial of my would-be assailant. He was convicted, eventually, though his lawyer, who worked as a very junior partner in the same office as Emma's father, tried to make a fool out of me, but made a critical mistake.

"Now, if you're so sure it was him who attacked you, can you see him in this room?" the defense lawyer.

"No," I replied.

"Ha!" he'd said as if he'd won something. "No further questions."

The DA was quick to clarify.

"Why can't you see him, Miss Hebert?" the DA asked.

"Because I'm blind," I replied. I wisely kept the smile off my face as the junior lawyer's heart rate shot up. I suspected it was the kind of mistake the Senior Partners wouldn't let him make again.

But law, and the process of it started to interest me more and more. I thought that, maybe, I could do something along those lines when I grew up. After all, I was blind, not cripple, and I noticed things and probably better than most other people around.

Years passed. I graduated, left home, went to college and then onto law school.

* * *

Unplaced Scene:

"Don't try to lie to me," I said. "Sophia Hess is Shadowstalker, and that's the reason I'll never be a ward."

"What evidence do you have?" Tagg demanded.

"I can hear her heartbeat," I replied. "I can hear everyone's heart, they're all different, all unique, even identical twins."

"So, none," he replied snidely.

"The fact that you're protecting that monster is another reason I'll never be a ward," I replied as I got ready to jump out the window. "She should be in jail, not out committing assaults."

"Daredevil makes for a pretty good villain name," he said with a dark grin. "Out her and we will ruin you."

"And threatening me makes it so enticing to be a ward," I snapped. "It must being so stupid and having this much purely political power."

"What?"

"You deliberately antagonize a person with super powers who could be anyone outside of the costume," I said. "There's nothing keeping me here, I've committed no crime. But just because you don't like not getting your way, you're threatening me. That's blatant stupidity. And I can tell by your heartbeat that you seemed surprised that I pointed out it was a bad idea."

* * *

AN: Taylor goes blind and gets Daredevil's powers. Skitter doesn't come about, so she doesn't fight Lung, who doesn't get caught by Armsmaster. Because Lung is free, Bakuda doesn't go on a rampage. With the ABB still strong, Coil decides not to out the E88. Without the chaos, Leviathan picks some other city to sink. The Slaughterhouse 9 choose a place a little less organized to have their little recruiting party and so, Coil never gets the prophesy. So, then, ten years down the line, Taylor is a new Lawyer in a city without much in the way of law.

I like the idea, but I can't seem to get it to work into something larger without a lot of work. Considering the number of fics I've got in the works, I decided not to put all my energy into this one.


	3. The First Rule About Cape Fights

The First Rule about Cape Fights

.

by DireSquirrel

* * *

Taylor sat up in the hospital bed a while after she woke up. Her mind had been awake for a while, but her body refused to obey her commands. Well, truth be told, she just didn't want to get up and face the world.

She closed her eyes and she was back there, the images of tampons, pads and other biological waste rotting around her as her fingers pried at the inside of the locker door. She wanted to not be herself, she wanted to be different, to be someone people could look up to, not someone they'd abuse and torture.

"Hey," a young woman said. She was dressed in orderly scrubs and smiled down at her. "You're awake."

"Yeah," Taylor rasped, her voice sore from screaming.

"That's good," she said. "I'm betting the doc will be in soon to check on you. Let's see what you've got here?" She leaned over and looked at the automatic pulse and bloodpressure readout then glanced at the IV drip. She was a bit scruffy, with short, wild hair that seemed like it didn't know if it wanted to be blond or something else. "Looking good. I'm betting you'll be out of here in no time."

"Thanks," she said nervously.

"You say right there and wait for the doc," she said with a rakish grin. "No running off on me, now, you hear?"

"Sure," Taylor said, managing to twist her face into a smile. sHe grinned wider and stepped out the door. Sure enough, the doctor was there soon to check on her. sHe had a nurse take blood and such as she was stuck there helpless. The orderly came back a while later and helped her out.

"Want some help sitting up?" she asked. Taylor nodded and he managed to help her scoot upwards into a more comfortable sitting position and rearranged her pillow. "Damn. I can't believe someone did this to such a good kid. You don't deserve that, you hear me?"

"No one does," she managed to respond.

"Nah, some people do," she said. "_You_ don't. There's a difference, you see?"

She thought about it and realized, that yes, some people did deserve something like that to happen to them. She could pick out three names off the top of her head.

"Yeah, I do," she replied. She fell silent as he fiddled about the room, thinking about what she said, until she called out as the orderly was about to leave the room. "Hey, what's your name?"

She grinned that same rakish grin. "Lisa," she said. "Lisa Wilbourn."

Lisa came by every so often as long as Taylor was in the hospital. She always seemed to know what was going on, who was sleeping with who and who had a little workplace feud that no one ever seemed to talk about it.

"So, how do you know these things?" Taylor asked. Her friend shrugged.

"I just figure out these things," Lisa replied with a smirk.

* * *

AN: Inspired by Fight Club. Taylor as Edward Norton, and Lisa as Tyler Durden. I originally wrote it with Taylor meeting Tyler, but changed it up after a few suggestions. Haven't thought too much about this since I wrote it. I may have to ruminate upon it a bit.


	4. A Day in the Life

**A day in the life**

By DireSquirrel

.

* * *

Contessa knew what she had to do. It was all for the greater good of the human race in all parts of the multiverse. It was a dirty job, but if they wanted to beat Scion, it was up to her.

"Door," she said a moment before she walked through the portal. New York city looked much as she remembered it, though the adverts had changed since then. The Path to Victory told her exactly what to do. She walked into the danish shop and stood in line.

"What can I do for you?" the person behind the counter asked when she made it to the front.

"I need the last strawberry danish," she said, handing him a $50. "Keep the change."

The boy's eyes bulged as he ran the marker over the crisp bill, authenticating the currency. Contessa didn't look back, but walked out, tossed the danish in the nearest trash can and walked down the street.

"Door," she said before walking through. She went back to her quarters and returned a moment later with the biggest late 80s era boombox Alexandria ever saw perched on her shoulder.

"What are you doing with the boombox?" Alexandria asked.

"Path to Victory," she said. "Door."

As the portal closed behind the living plot device, Alexandria caught the first few chords of "Brick House" by the Commodores.

She returned several hours later wearing golden hammerpants, holding a gladius in one hand, and her shoes tied together and strung over one shoulder by the laces.

"Path to Victory?" Doctor Mother asked.

Contessa just nodded.

"Very well," Doctor Mother said, going back to her research.

* * *

AN: This was inspired by an issue of the eX-iles comic. They had a basic mission to save the various worlds they slid to. In one, their entire mission was to go to a bakery and buy the last pastry. Then with Rube Goldberg connectivity, it results in saving the world via butterfly effect.

That got me thinking about what the "Path to Victory" really was. Is it really just going around, shooting people in the heads? No, there had to be other steps in the Path, and I thought that a few wouldn't make sense to anyone who wasn't Contessa. And so, this was born.


End file.
